


The True Story of Wei Wuxian, Punk Rock Flute Player

by AnywherePlace (BrownShrike)



Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Crush, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Developing Relationship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Questionable Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownShrike/pseuds/AnywherePlace
Summary: Dumbass genius Wei Wuxian is expelled from the conservatory for an undisclosed crime against human decency, so he decides to run away from home and become a punk rocker. Who can support him on this thorny path? Why, Lan Wangji, of course.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	The True Story of Wei Wuxian, Punk Rock Flute Player

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so the main idea of this fic was actually suggested to me by my [dear friend and occasional partner in crime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damariya), though I admittedly tweaked it a little to suit my needs. Thank you! I had fun with this. Anyway, this is pure, undistilled crack, and even though it takes place in modern times, I beg you... do not view it as a story about Actual China That Exists in Reality. I'm dead serious about this. Please pretend it's an imaginary country that sort of resembles China sometimes and has a Chinese population; quite frankly, this is true for most of my stories. I'm deeply sorry. Also, this fic mentions some real names and places, but that's about it (I didn't feel like making them up myself).

"...so basically, I got expelled."

Nie Huaisang gave Wei Wuxian a reverent look, and Jiang Cheng simply sighed and bit angrily into his hamburger. The waitress shot them a mildly curious glance.

"Expelled from the Central Conservatory of Music for unacceptable behavior," Nie Huaisang repeated. "Wow. That's… impressive. I mean, my homeroom teacher told me I was 'stubbornly resistant to all forms of knowledge', but that was it."

Wei Wuxian shrugged. "You're doing great now, aren't you? Not gonna lie, we were pretty surprised when you enrolled into... wait, what was it again, School of Political Science and Public Administration? I fully expected you to become an illustrator or something."

"My brother fully expected me to become a NEET," Nie Huaisang giggled softly. "Oh well, at least he's happy now."

"More like shell-shocked," Jiang Cheng muttered.

Wei Wuxian frowned at him. "Hey, don't be an asshole. Huaisang passed the entrance exams so well, I'm just sad he has no time for his wonderful porny pics now... So what are you going to do next? Aim for the General Secretary's seat?"

"That's the plan, yeah," Nie Huaisang nodded and took a sip from his coffee cup. "And you? I assume madame Yu is not exactly thrilled about your expulsion."

Wei Wuxian stuck his tongue out. "Long story short, she's disowning me."

Nie Huaisang snickered. "It's okay, my brother used to talk about disowning me all the time. Disowning me and breaking my legs, in no particular order."

"It doesn't count," Wei Wuxian objected. "Your brother loves you to death. Like... come on, he has this huge folder of your photos. A folder of your photos titled _Baby Squirrel_."

Nie Huaisang blushed rather fiercely. "That _aside_ , where are you going to stay while madame Yu is still mad? You can crash at my place if you wish! We have spare rooms, and my brother likes you well enough. I'm sure he won’t mind."

"No, no," Wei Wuxian shook his head. "I appreciate it, but... no. I think it's time for me to abandon the comfort of domestic life and head into the wilderness."

Nie Huaisang blinked. "Just so you know, we're right in the middle of a megapolis," he pointed out tactfully. "We don't _have_ any wilderness here."

"Okay," Wei Wuxian conceded. "Metaphorical wilderness. I'm going to be a punk."

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. "You _idiot_. What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Rage against the establishment," Wei Wuxian explained and snatched a couple of French fries from Jiang Cheng's plate. "Non-conformity. Mohawks. And punk rock. I will be the world's most radical punk rock flute player. Of course I'm going to miss sister Yanli and this grumpy cat over here, but I can't resist the call of anarchy."

Nie Huaisang clasped his hands in delight. "Are you going to slander me in your songs when I ascend to the heights of dictatorship?"

Wei Wuxian squeezed his shoulder. "Absolutely."

"Excellent," Nie Huaisang beamed. "See, brother Jiang, you don't need to worry about him."

Jiang Cheng gulped down his coke and slammed the can on the table.

They parted ways in about an hour: Nie Huaisang wanted to meet Nie Mingjue after work, and Jiang Cheng promised to talk to his mother again, this time without Wei Wuxian.

"Do me a favor and don't actually sleep in the streets," he hissed. "I get that you don't want to bother Nie Huaisang, but..."

"Oh, calm _down_ ," Wei Wuxian smirked. "The whole _point_ of punk life is..."

"Shoo, shoo," Jiang Cheng waved his hand angrily and walked away, leaving Wei Wuxian alone in front of the cafe. Not discouraged in the slightest, Wei Wuxian headed towards the city park. Nie Huaisang was probably right about wilderness, because the park was mostly populated by pigeons and sparrows, but it also seemed like a good starting point for one's punk career, since it was also a popular spot for street musicians. All in all, Wei Wuxian was in a great mood; he was only moderately concerned about his explosive anti-establishment lyrics, because apparently you couldn't play the flute and sing at the same time, at least without some considerable effort, but seeing how he hadn't written them yet, this could wait. Right now, it was probably enough to play something offensive, sarcastic and wild, even if it was purely instrumental.

He took his flute case out of his backpack and caressed it lovingly with his fingers. Unacceptable behavior aside, music was something that brought him genuine joy, and quite frankly, he was pretty good at it. An energetic melody started forming in his head, only to be interrupted by a very different sound.

Someone was playing the guqin under a large paulownia tree, and Wei Wuxian definitely knew this playing style, crystal clear and quietly powerful like a river.

Without thinking, he rushed towards the tree, where a large crowd had already gathered around the mysterious musician, blocking him from Wei Wuxian's sight. Everyone was busy taking pictures and filming him with their phones, but nobody dared to speak: people were obviously entranced by the understated magnificence of his melody. Finally, Wei Wuxian managed to make his way through the crowd and saw the very last person he expected to meet in this bustling den of punk ideology.

Well, it was a regular city park, to be more exact, but still.

It was Lan Wangji, otherwise known as Lan Zhan to his (hypothetical) friends.

Wei Wuxian's eyes widened in shock. Lan Wangji was the ultimate treasure of the Central Conservatory of Music, its precious jade, the peerless genius blessed by heavens, the light and hope of the Traditional Music Department. Moreover, Lan Wangji was a perfectly proper young man who never misbehaved in any way or form and carried himself like an imperial prince from a historical drama. And a very high-budget one at that. He was the nephew of Lan Qiren, so it was only natural, but deep down, Wei Wuxian suspected that _maybe_ Lan Wangji was simply not very interested in mischief because he had better things to do. 

Last but not least, he was strikingly handsome. 

The prince bit did not only refer to his demeanour: he was practically a fantasy character transported into reality, with his beautiful white skin, sharp features, and gorgeous black hair. Wei Wuxian had exactly zero self-esteem issues regarding his appearance, and his friend Nie Huaisang was straight-up adorable, too, but Lan Wangji was obviously in a league of his own.

Speaking of friends, yes, Wei Wuxian definitely treated Lan Wangji as one, at least back when he was still a student at the Central Conservatory of Music and not a dangerous anti-authoritarian punk on the loose. They never hung out the way Wei Wuxian hung out with Nie Huaisang, and Jiang Cheng often chided him for getting on Lan Wangji's nerves, but Lan Wangji didn't seem to hate it _quite_ as much as Jiang Cheng thought he did. Lan Wangji's expressions were admittedly not very readable, and sometimes Wei Wuxian had to make assumptions, but overall, their relationship was fine. So fine, in fact, that Lan Wangji was quite possibly the only thing he was going to miss about this stupidly pretentious, freedom-hating institution.

And now, this flawless man was performing in the streets, all dressed in blue and white.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian yelled the moment Lan Wangji stopped playing. "Is that really you, Lan Zhan?"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji greeted him, composed as ever.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Wei Wuxian exclaimed and plopped down by his side, much to the crowd's chagrin. "Did uncle Qiren throw you out?"

Lan Wangji tilted his head a little. "My uncle and I are on good terms." 

Wei Wuxian raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Then why are you...?"

"I am popularizing authentic traditional music," Lan Wangji explained in the same reserved manner. "Most modern people don't get the opportunity to hear guqin often enough."

"That’s right!" an elderly woman cried in annoyance. "For heaven's sake, please don't bother this lovely boy and let him continue."

"Yes, yes," a middle-aged man agreed, and some tough-looking teenage girls shook their smartphones rather threateningly.

"I give up," Wei Wuxian laughed helplessly. "I was planning to become a punk rocker, and you went and out-punked me, Lan Zhan. I swear there's nothing more fundamentally punk than Lan Wangji as a street musician."

Lan Wangji stared straight into his eyes, and Wei Wuxian felt vaguely weird, though it wasn't an unpleasant kind of weirdness.

"I do not wish to interfere with your plans," he said. "But you are free to join me."

"As in... to play with you?" Wei Wuxian blinked. "Seriously?"

Lan Wangji's graceful fingers touched the guqin strings. "We've never tried it before."

Wei Wuxian grinned. "This is totally _not_ how I envisioned my first punk rock band, but you know what? Color me excited."

The guqin began to sing again, but this time, it was joined by the devilishly playful, teasing, wind-like voice of the wooden flute, and the crowd went silent, mesmerized by their duet. Wei Wuxian wasn't entirely sure whether it carried a distinct anti-establishment message or not, but for now, this sounded good enough. Not only that, but somehow, it almost felt like having a long conversation with Lan Wangji.

He could really grow to like that.

An hour later, Wei Wuxian found himself walking along the twilit ginkgo lane with Lan Wangji, clearly in the direction of the latter's home. Lan Wangji didn't even have to invite him formally; it simply... happened, just like their spontaneous punk concert that wasn't actually very punk but ended up being highly successful nonetheless, judging by the wild applause that followed it. Now, Wei Wuxian was trying to figure out what to do next; chatting seemed like the best option.

"...so madame Yu is angry as hell, and I don't want to stay at her house," he explained. "And I'm willing to bet she doesn't want to see me either, preferably for the rest of her life. Dunno about uncle Jiang, but he's going to be upset, and sister Yanli too." He scratched his nose sadly. "It's not like I don't care about them! But I suck at being a good boy. Sorry for my language."

"There might be a way to solve your problem," Lan Wangji suggested, evidently not offended by his choice of words.

"Yeah, right," Wei Wuxian lamented. "What do you even know about my expulsion, Lan Zhan? Nothing, that's what. You've probably heard the rumors, but not the whole story. And trust me, it's terrifying."

"Then tell me about it," Lan Wangji responded with the serene frankness and magnanimity of a person unstained by sin.

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to argue, but his smartphone buzzed demandingly in his pocket. He glanced at Lan Wangji, and his companion nodded, giving Wei Wuxian time to type his answer.

**NieDao:** _Congrats on your truly fantastic debut. (*^_^*)_

**GrandMaster666:** _what debut_

**GrandMaster666:** _oh u mean THAT_

**GrandMaster666:** _wait how come u know already_

**NieDao:** _Not to be overly patronizing, but we live in the age of social networks and smartphones. (*^_^*) And people like to share their observations. (*^_^*)_

**GrandMaster666:** _pfffffffft_

**GrandMaster666:** _okay point taken_

**NieDao:** _That aside, wow! You actually lured Lan Wangji into punk life? (*o*)_

**GrandMaster666:** _nope_

**GrandMaster666:** _lan wangji lured me into punk life_

"Your family?" Lan Wangji asked.

Wei Wuxian smiled. "Nope, just some quick words of encouragement from our future ruler. Say, Lan Zhan, do you _really_ want me to come to your place?"

Something glimmered indistinctly in Lan Wangji's eyes. "I'm not forcing you."

"Of _course_ you're not forcing me," Wei Wuxian snorted. "I'm talking about dear old uncle Qiren. Don't get me wrong, I respect him about as much as... er... anyway, I respect him a lot, but I highly doubt that he feels the same about me. In fact, I'm fairly sure that he views me as a menace to society. And look, it's okay! I'm a punk! It sort of... comes with the package! But I don't want to cause you any problems."

"You aren't causing me any problems," Lan Wangji said. "And in any case, my uncle is currently visiting our relatives, and my brother is on a business trip. We won't disturb anyone by discussing your situation."

"Nah, I'd rather just play a little more," Wei Wuxian protested weakly. "But, well, it's getting late, I guess, and your neighbors won't appreciate it if you go full punk overnight."

To that, Lan Wangji did not reply.


End file.
